


Tumblr Mini-fic #6: Duck

by berlynn_wohl



Series: Tumblr Mini-Fics [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, M/M, Rubber Ducks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:48:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of a series of Johnlock mini-fics written for my Tumblr followers. Sherlock is inundated by rubber ducks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tumblr Mini-fic #6: Duck

**This fic is a prize for[cerealseri](http://cerealseri.tumblr.com/), who won it in [fuckyeahjohnlockfanfic](http://fuckyeahjohnlockfanfic.tumblr.com/)'s 10,000 Follower giveaway. Her prompt was "John and Sherlock in the bathtub. With rubber duckies." Hope you enjoy, darling!**

 

*****

  

John asked, “Has the post arrived yet?” and Sherlock answered him by flinging something at him that hit him square in the face. It bounced off and fell to the floor: a rubber ducky.

“This is your fault,” Sherlock said.

John picked the duck up and set it on the coffee table. “I don’t even understand _what_ is my fault, let alone why it should be.”

“Do you remember when I recovered an antique clock for the owner of that chain of novelty item shops? And his young daughter gave me a wrapped box that contained a bar of soap in the shape of a duck?”

“Yes, I kicked you under the table until you told her it was a charming gift.”

“Which is why it’s your fault. My ersatz compliment made it into the papers,  and now ‘fans’ are sending me rubber ducks. I’ve got three dozen now. Forty if you count the red ones with the devil horns.”

John chuckled. “You’re like the Beatles of private detectives now,” he said. When Sherlock failed to recognise the reference, John explained, “The Beatles mentioned to a magazine that they liked jelly babies, and thereafter, at every concert they played, they were pelted with jelly babies by well-meaning fans. I think George nearly lost an eye once. Look, don’t worry, it will pass. People forget.”

“And in the meantime, I have a flat full of rubber duckies, whose numbers will no doubt grow until we are suffocated beneath their non-biodegradable jollity.”

“Tell you what. I’ll open the rest of the post and screen out all the rubber duckies for you. You must have something to work on in the kitchen.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Sherlock picked up a container that had also arrived in the post that morning. It was covered in brightly-coloured stickers with grave messages on them. “Toes!” he said merrily, and went into the kitchen.

“Just out of curiosity, when you order toes, do they give you an assortment? Or can you specify ‘all big ones’ for an additional fee?”

Sherlock ignored him.

 

 *****

 

John decided that it would be best to interrupt Sherlock when he was reading. Reading -- that is, reading as a means of data collection -- was a necessary between-case pastime, but something that Sherlock usually didn’t mind being disturbed at. John called to him from the bathroom.

Sherlock walked in to find John reclining in the bathtub, surrounded by copious clouds of bubbles…and all forty rubber ducks.

“Well? What do you think of them now?” John asked with a mischievous grin.

Sherlock did not smile in return, but set immediately to stripping off his clothes. “I suppose I could learn to like them.”

They didn’t do this sort of thing often, as the bath was not designed to accommodate two grown men. But with a bit of maneouvering, there was enough room for John to lather all the parts of Sherlock that he could lift above the surface of the water, using the original ducky-soap gift, of course. His slippery fingers slid round Sherlock’s sides and into the spaces between each rib. He took special care with bruised areas, of which there were always a few; he kissed each one better, tasting soap and clean skin.

John loved the way the shimmering lather looked on Sherlock’s skin, highlighting the sinews of his biceps and thighs. He also loved to see that ivory skin turning pink in the hot water. But he _especially_ enjoyed seeing Sherlock sit up and expose his nipples to the cool air, which made them go all hard. John was inclined to warm them again immediately -- with his tongue.

All the while, Sherlock regarded the crowd of rubber duckies, bobbing along in the water that lapped at his skin. Apparently, even Sherlock’s acerbic demeanor was no match for their plastic whimsy, for John caught him smiling, though it may have had something to do with John scrubbing him between his toes.

“If you sit up and turn around,” John said, “I’ll do the rest.”

Sherlock got on his knees and leaned forward to grasp the rim of the tub, and John cuddled close behind him, protecting as much of Sherlock’s skin from the cool air as was possible with his own body, whilst he gave Sherlock a soapy wank.

“Twenty years ago,” Sherlock said, his words hitching only slightly with John’s strokes, “a shipping crate was lost at sea which contained twenty-eight thousand rubber ducks. They’re still washing up on shores all over the world, and oceanographers are using them to learn massive amounts about ocean currents and plastic pollution. It’s really quite interesting.”

“Uh huh, that does sound interesting,” John said, as he lathered Sherlock’s balls. Then he wetted his fingertips with saliva and played with Sherlock’s arsehole a bit, just for the sake of doing it. He liked the way his fingers looked when they just barely dipped inside. Judging by the way he’d suddenly gone quiet, Sherlock was having the teensiest bit of fun, too, being scrubbed and played with, though he’d never admit it.

John soaped up his own cock, then gripped it at the base and pushed it against Sherlock’s behind, letting it slide all around before directing it between Sherlock’s thighs; the head nudged at his balls.

“John.”

“Relax, I’m not going to try to put it in. I’m just going to touch you a bit while I put it between your legs.”

“No, I mean, can we not wait and have it in the bedroom? I can’t, right now…not while _they’re_ watching.”

John looked down at the cheerful but eerily unblinking eyes of their duck companions. He huffed, “S’pose you’re right. This _is_ a private affair; it was rude of me to invite them.”

The shopping bag in which he’d carried the ducks into the bathroom was still on the floor. John scooped up the ducks two or three at a time and dumped them back into the bag. Water sloshed around, and got all over the floor, much to his chagrin.

“Now back to business,” he said finally, dropping the full bag back on the floor, and lathered himself up again. He had left one ducky sitting inconspicuously on the rim of the tub, peeking out from behind the shampoo. He wanted the chance to show off just a _little_ bit.

 


End file.
